It Should Have Been Me
by PierrotRabitt
Summary: He told his Father countless times he would never go. He would always be there - but there is no point anymore. Nothing goes right, and things get worse as soon as I go to that dreadful place.See why I never wanted to come , Papa? GAKUEN HETALIA Bad Sum
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N: This will be told from Arthur's point of view. Human names used. I know most of you know this – but for those that don't – Alfred is America's human name. Arthur is England's. Simple? I'll put parenthesis of the country's name when introducing a new character using their human name.)**

There were a few things I resented that night. The sound of tires screeching, the blaring headlights – getting brighter and brighter;blinding me and my father as they came closer. I resented the glass that shattered and scattered everywhere, the scarlet red that spilled all over – staining my clothing and my memory. I resented looking around frantically; looking over at _that _particular spot. Yet none of those things could ever amount to how much I resented myself at that moment – and how much I resent myself now.

If only I had payed attention. I could have warned him, I could have saved him. I could have . . . it could have been me.

_"Don't ever say 'if' in remembrance of past events, nothing will change and you'll just feel helpless. You don't need to make yourself feel guilty when you couldn't have done anything in the first place."_

That's right, _he _told me that – he always did – when I was younger. It always seemed like he never cared. When I cried and said my regrets, he'd glare at me and tell me to never use the words 'if I' because it made me look pathetic. Heh. I guess I looked pretty pathetic back then – and even now. I guess nothing's really changed. As much as I'd like to believe it – _everything's_ changed. Nothing is the same anymore, and never will be. 

"Nothing will be the same. . ." I muttered under my breathe, looking at the ceiling fan spin in circles in my room. I eventually got dizzy and just stared off into space. It wasn't long until I fell asleep; sad thoughts still lingering in my mind and slowly transferring into nightmares – no, the correct term is memories. . .but to remember them and wake up where I'm at now. . . the impact is equivalent to a nightmare.

. . . . . . . . . . .

I woke up the next day cold as hell. The fan was still on, the windows – open, the sheets were underneath me and were in perfect condition – excluding a few wrinkles and curtains danced along with the breeze that instructed them. I glanced at the clock with my eyes. It was hard to see, I presumed it was because my eyes were dry and would check them when I got up to get ready. 5 A.M. What time did I go to sleep again? I thought back, I was lost in my thoughts for a while and didn't know how much time had went by – but I closed my laptop around 1 A.M, I would guess I feel asleep around 2. Oh isn't that just _abso-bloody-lutely_ fantastic? 3 hours of sleep. Oh well. I might as well get up now, I can never fall asleep again anyways. I got up and slowly walked to the bathroom, my eyes half open and it took all my strength to drag myself across the room.

I looked at my twin who lived in the mirror and frowned. My eyes were red and so were my cheeks. There were a few dried tears and gray bags under my eyes. I knew this meant I had dreamed – _remembered _– that night, it's easy to not remember a dream but I learned over the years that I always woke up like this after I had that same nightmare and after looking at my appearance I would remember it again – even if I would prefer to leave it behind me. I sighed and closed my eyes – letting myself fall victim to my conscious and fall into the memories of the one thing I oh-so-hoped to forget more then anything.

. . . . . . . . . . .

_I stared at him in his usual state. He was furious and yelling at me, but I ignored it and turned my head. I placed my head on my hand and looked out of the window and watched as rain fell onto the glass and slowly dripped down, like tears would fall down a pale-colored cheek. I let his words come in one ear and out the other. I've memorized this speech by heart anyways._

_ "You're 11 , Arthur! 11! I don't know if Patrick (Scotland) and the others are influencing you or not but you can not act this way! Sooner or later Patrick is going to be in High School! That is when everything goes wrong and we'll be lucky if he keeps his sanity! His grades might drop and he might turn into a delinquent. If that's the case then I do not want you to follow his example! Peter (Sealand) will grow up with you as one of the only siblings he knows and I want him to be under a good example! Unless of course – "_

_ "I'm not going to boarding school Papa, I've already decided that." I interrupted, knowing the next five words out of his mouth. He looked over at me and blinked in surprise, but then frowned._

_ "Things change Arthur. You say some things now, but sooner or later you may find yourself saying those things without any meaning or true belief. " I grew silent at this. _

_Like how you said you loved me when I was little?_

_Can you still say that with all the feeling you had back then?_

_And that's when God decided to play the movie of my life in slow-motion. _

"_Dad!"  
><em>

_ I feel glass piercing into my skin, I bring my hands over my face in defense. I screamed. He slam his chest against the wheel. His head against some glass. Blood runs down his forehead and there are cuts all over him. I slowly turn my head._

_ "Daddy?" I choke out. I never have felt more childish in my life, but this, – this brought back too much. . . to see something here a few seconds ago and gone in less then a minute – this was the first time I've experienced true pain. Not physical – although I've had a incidents here and there – but mental. It tore me apart in side. "Daddy, wake up! Please!" My voice strained, tears rolling down my cheeks, my face turning red._

_ He turned his head a bit, his green eyes half open, no longer shining with the bright confidence they usually held. He smiled at me. Weakly. Bitterly. Then he muttered five words that make me burst into more tears. I hear sirens coming in behind. I see the lights reflecting off the glass all around me. After that everything went black, and I woke up to find that it wasn't the dream I had hoped it to be when I first opened my eyes._

_ I woke up to a fan above me, going in continuous circles. Once I was fully-awake – or at least grasped the situation I was in and what had happened before I shot up, _

_ "Daddy!" Nurses came in and held me down, telling me countless times I had to rest. I kept struggling as best I could, but I could feel skin being ripped open and blood drip down my thigh, I yelped in pain and held my thigh, tears of pain forming in the corner of my eyes.  
><em>

_ "Someone get the doctor, he opened some of his stitches!" I opened my eyes reluctantly and took my hand of my thigh to look at it, it was drenched in blood. I stared at it and caught the scream in my throat. I began missing every chance I had to breathe and not long after that I blacked out again – at least it was easier for the nurses to patch up my stitches. _

. . . . . . . . . . .

After I woke up, I was surrounded by my brothers. Patrick . . .was crying? Mother was a complete and utter emotional wreck. She held Peter close to her and he cried into her shirt. Scáthach (S. Ireland) and Wally (Wales -I could /NOT/ think of anything so sorry for the bad name) were crying too. Everyone was, and when I mentioned Father they only cried more and it didn't take anything else for me to get the hint and start crying as well – but somehow, I ended up crying more then anyone – despite how close he was to my older brothers, despite how much my mother loved him, despite Peter being so young and sensitive.

That's when things went downhill. Patrick, Scáthach and Wally began to abuse me – they would have been playing rugby with Father if it had been me. Mother was always crying and rarely left the house – she would be preparing a nice dinner for when Father got home if it had been me. The only normal one was Peter, because he never quite understood the concept of death. He began to spend more and more time with me and we became so close – that was the one bad thing that could have happened if it had been me.


	2. Chapter 2

I walked though the empty halls. It was 6:30 and class didn't start until 8:00. I skipped breakfast as usual. Mother would usually lecture me about how important breakfast was – but after Father died and I decided to leave the household for boarding school I found myself rarely eating. In fact, I usually skipped breakfast. Went to the library during lunch and when it came to dinner I would eat very little. I was becoming very underweight – so much so that it could harm me. Not that I cared, I thought nothing else could harm me more so then what happened in the past. The past I need to stop dwelling on – but it's hard to. Every day after that car crash people at school were picked up by their fathers. They talked about them.

Now I'm in high school and those ungrateful kids talk about how annoyed they are by their mother and father's constant worrying. Every time I hear them talking poorly it takes all I have not to walk over there and slap them across the face. I would do it, I would slap them, hurt them, yell at them – but I'm the Student Body President. There are already rumors about me about why I never eat and rarely talk to anyone. It's been 4 months since I've been here. My first day wasn't exactly a thrill.

It turned out that my old childhood bully Francis (France) was there. Luckily he was 3rd year and I never really had to see him and his annoying friends Antonio (Spain) and Gilbert (Prussia) The rooms were a pain. Originally Francis and I _had _to room together, but after much complaint from the both of us and after I became the Student Body President, Francis was sent to room with his Trio and I was left to a nice room all to myself. I preferred it this way – isolated. It was calm and peaceful. I could get work done, read in silence. Go to bed whenever I felt like it without having a roommate annoy me.

I decided to walk into my homeroom, my teacher gave me a warm smile,

"Go ahead and take a seat Arthur," she said, gesturing towards the front row near the window. I slowly made my way over there and sat down, taking my books out, "Why are you here so early? School doesn't start for another hour and a half – you could always go back to the dorms and maybe rest a bit more."

"I'm fine. I woke up around 5 in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep. There were a few books I have wanted to check out at the library for a while now , but they aren't open anyways. So I figured I'd stay, and hour and a half isn't that bad," I stated casually, not looking up from my book – but I could tell the teacher was raising her eyebrow at me, I sighed., "Need any help?"

"Hm. Let me see," She said, looking through her papers, "Ah! Here we are. These were in the teacher's room. It's the profile for the new student coming today."

"New student?" I said, now up by her side looking at the papers she held in her hand over her shoulder.

"Yes. Could you please show them around the school?" She asked, handing me the papers and crossing over to sit at her desk.

"Of course." I nodded, taking the papers and reading them to myself now that I had a better view.

_Age: 14_

Great. Someone the same year as me. Better not be annoying.

_Gender: Male_

2/3 less of a chance they're going to be a stuck-up cheerleader.

_Room Number: _578 _– Dover Dorm_

That's fantastic. Really, it is. I have a room mate now.

_Birthday: July 4th_

That's the same day . . . . . . .

I was cut off my thoughts as I simultaneously read the next line and clenched the paper tightly in my hands. I gritted my teeth. He was the last person I wanted here. I thought I got rid of him long ago! That was it, right? That's what we told each other. Oh no. I reread the paper in a panic. He's my roommate. . .It takes all I have not to want to rip the paper up with his name on it – how the bloody hell are we going to _live _with each other?

_Name: Alfred F. Jones_

"Arthur? Are you alright," She asked, her voice filled with concern, "You've been standing there for 5 minutes now with this shock-and-hate filled look on your face."

"Huh?" I stopped crumbling the paper and looked up and forced a smile onto my face, "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for asking and sorry if I troubled you. Well anyways," I changed the subject, looking away, "When do you think they are going to get here? I don't want someone who shows up late and thinks they own the place. Especially if it's a foreigner."

She frowned at me, "By foreigner you mean American? Am I correct?"

I nodded, "Yes. I can tell this person is American. Just by their name. They even wrote their birthday in big bold letters with fireworks around it. That's a dead give-away." She smiled,

"Well, they must be smart if they got accepted into this school."

"You could say that. Anyways, I think the library is open." I said, looking at my clock. _7:15._

"Alright. Be quick about it though, the new student should be coming in about 15 minutes. He'll be waiting at the school mural."

"Got it. I'll be at the school mural in 15 minutes and give him a tour of the school. Anything else?" 

"Stay with him and help him get to his classes. You get out around 12 due to your AP classes and fast pace of learning. Correct?"

"Yes. I get out at 12 but I sometimes work for and hour or two in the Student Council Room."

"OK, well. Just show him to were his classes are and maybe follow him and briefly explain the previous lessons, lend him some notes or something along those lines. We don't want him slowing down the class." 

"Got it." I said, and with that I paced to the library and searched every shelf for the book I needed most – Dealing with Americans for Dummies. Sadly, that book didn't exist. So I had to stick to the ones I needed for my English project.

. . . . . . . . . . .

I waited in front of the mural tapping my foot impatiently. Where was he? It wasn't that hard to get lost – the mural was visible and easy to find. Then again Alfred _was _American. Yet again, it didn't give him a bloody excuse to be late. If he was going to a boarding school – a _British_ boarding school – he would need to learn to act more proper, do his work and show up on time!

"Um. Are you the dude that's supposed to show me around or something?" I jumped at the loud voice that filled the silence and heard an even louder, even more obnoxious laugh in return. I turned around and glared harshly at him. There was a long silence. He started of staring at me in confusion – but looking closer. His eyes were more filled with shock then anything else, but he returned my glare.

"Artie? What are you doing here?" He asked, confused.

I rolled my eyes at his natural stupidity, "Oh? I was sent here to save Princess Celestia from the Mare in the Moon. You idiot. I go to school here and I'm the Student Body President so do not refer to me as Artie or 'Dude'," I sighed annoyed, "I guess I have to play the role of your tour guide today. Next stop, dorm rooms. Doesn't that sound fun?" I hissed, my voice full of venom and sarcasm.

"What the hell did I do? Jesus, are you still not over it Arthur?" 

"If I was over it would I be treating you like this, would I? Besides – you aren't over it either."

"True, but can't we at least _act_ like we are?"

"I already have a mask to wear in this masquerade I call school, Alfred. Wear your own and act like your over it but I'm happy with the mask I have now and I will not let you or anyone else see past it. No one but me can add to it or take it off – and I don't intend to do either." 

"Fine, whatever you say. Just show me were my dorm is." 

"You mean our dorm."

"What?"

"My dorm was the only dorm available and since you decided to come along I can no longer enjoy solitude. So come on, you're half an hour late and class starts in 30 minutes."

"Okay, okay." He said, following me with all his bags in hand.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"You idiot! We're going to be late now let's go!" I yelled at him.

"Don't get your panties in a twist. We have the five-minute bell, right?" 

"Five minute bell?" I asked confused. Must be some American thing since they have a high tendency to be late.

"Crap." He froze, "Come on let's go! Homeroom is A-K right?" 

"Y-Yeah. What's it to you?"

"Shut up and let's just run. Maybe we can make it!" He said, grabbing my wrist and running at high speed. He was practically dragging me across the floor and I stumbled a lot but I managed to pick myself up and run – just not as fast as him.

"Do you even know where we're going?" I shouted at him.

"Yeah! I past the room when we were walking here, remember! Here we go!" He said, turning the corner and barging into the room. I was dragged behind and caught up. I glanced down and noticed he still held my wrist from when we were running and pulled it away. I began to pant and try to catch my breathe.

"Arthur? That kind of entrance is not becoming of a long-term Student Council President such as yourself." 

"Sorry Miss. I was showing the new student around and he was going to be late so he decided to make a mad dash for the class room. I guess it's an American thing." Alfred scoffed and glared at me.

"Anyways, please introduce yourself." She said, smiling at Alfred.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones – but you can all call me 'The Hero!''"

"Alright , now Arthur – you and your friend can go sit over there and you can explain to him the rules, consequences and expectations that come with being a student here." 

"He _isn't_ my friend." I muttered, as I walk over and sat in my seat. Alfred followed and sat down next to me. I didn't dare face him, but I kept my voice stern so he knew I was dead serious.

"Don't try to do anything funny, Jones. This school is serious. If you can't deal with that and be tad bit more mature or even a little bit more responsible you'll be sent out without hesitation. You're lucky we even let you come here. Why they let you here, I don't know. But the school and even I have high expectations for you. Do not be tardy, do your work. Be in your dorm by 11 and avoid fights. If there is a fight and you try to stop it you will automatically be involved. The only people who have permission to stop it is the Student Council. If you are falling behind in work, you will be signed up for a tutor or you will have to promise to raise your grade by one letter on your next test. Not quiz – there's a difference." 

"Alright, are you done yet?" Alfred whined.

"Not exactly. I have my own expectations and ground rules for you." 

"Hm?" Alfred looked up at me and raised an eyebrow.

"Do not get your nose into my business. Do not talk to me unless it's mandatory. Do not look through my things. Do not ask me for assistance with personal issues and most importantly do not give off the impression that we are – or were – friends." 

"Fine by me." He glared.

"Good. Looks like that was easier then I thought." I said, only wishing that I meant it – because there was no way he meant any of what he said. I could tell from a little glint in his eyes and by the smirk that played across his face once I finished my statement. I could only wonder what the rest of the year would turn out to be – and only hope that I still had my sanity by the end of the first semester .


End file.
